Mean Samhraidh
by Alfalfa
Summary: In which Lily is NOT some goody-two-shoes and James is NOT a complete idiot. Hurrah! hopefully as uncliched as possible. please read and review! Rated mostly for language.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: These carachters are not mine, they are Joanne K. Rowlings, except for the ones that are merely underdeveloped ocs, and then only the last names really belong to her, and their personalities and etc belong to me. so don't steal them...i mean, actully i don't really care, if you really despertately want to use one of my random ocs...whatever. at any rate, i am making no money from this and i don't like lawyers, so there is no need to sue. thank you.  
**

The last day of her seventeenth summer would stay deeply etched in Lily Evans' mind for years to come. For some reason it stood out distinctly in her memory, perhaps because it was one of the last times in her life that she would ever feel completely at peace.

The strange thing was that absolutely nothing of consequence had happened that day. For the past two weeks she had been staying with her favorite aunt at the seaside property that elderly women owned. The house wasn't large, but it opened directly onto a vast expanse of sandy beach and frothy white waves. Lily had come there with her parents and sister every summer for as long as she could remember, and she loved the comforting familiarity of it. In a world that seemed to be swiftly tilting into unforseen directions, away from all that she knew to be good and safe, the smell of salty sea air was always the same, the shrieks of gulls and crashing of waves never changed

All the same, she hadn't managed to completely escape the real world; this year, her emidiate family hadn't joined her on their holiday. Petunia, her sister, was getting married in December, and the older girl had flatly refused to waste any time lazing about by the sea when there was so much to be done. Lily's parents had also opted to stay home, but had allowed Lily to go alone, claiming that her aunt could use the company. This was arguably true, but Lily suspected it was also so she wouldn't have to put up with Petunia's pre-wedding hysteria all summer. Despite their past differences, the girl cared dearly for her sister, but Petunia was high-strung at the best of times, and lately she had been near impossible to live with. Now having arrived at the beach house, the waves and the sand were just as peaceful and comforting as ever, but the absence of her mother, father and only sibling were like jaring notes in a familiar tune. Everything was changing so fast and she felt oddly vulnerable when even in this safest of childhood haunts, pieces were missing, or different.

Her other disapointment in the small seaside paradise was the weather. The minute she had arrived it began to pour, causing the tide to rise high up on the rocks and the rain barrel to overflow. For this reason, she spent most of her time indoors, plunking away on the ancient piano in the living room. Then, on her last day before returning for the start of the school year, the clouds parted and the sun shone down on the water with a warm, healing glow. Waking at her usual early hour, Lily had showered and dressed quickly, snatched up some food, her book and her charcoal, then hurried outside to soak up the last rays of summer.

For the rest of the day she had sat on the hot white sand, alternately sketching or reading. The sun beat down on her relentlessly for the most part, warming her skin after so many days of wet and cold, but occaisionally a warm breeze would blow past, brushing long, deep crimson locks away from her face. The beach was privately owned, so no small children came splashing through the seaweed to bother her. Her book was a light fluffy romance, and she savoured its silliness, knowing she would have to read something of a more serious nature when she left the next day. Her charcoal sketch of the gulls on the driftwood was only half finished and seemed to be lacking something, but she didn't care. By mid-afternoon she was content to simply lie on her back, watching the blue of the sky as it turned the water to a deep green that matched her eyes, taking in the heat of the day. The wind came up again and carressed her cheek like a lover. Though she was aware that by this time tomorow she would be forced to return to the harsh world that was her reality, she felt warm and content and completely secure, as though nothing could possible disturb her or harm her. In this last place, untouched by time and the outside world, she was safe.

**AN: Alright, that was just a brief prologue, by the by, the actal story is much less serious and instrospective. If you like it, review, and then i'll update. Hurrah!**  
  



	2. Black bikini, rather lacy

**A/N: So, here is the lengthy first chapter, much more interesting than the prologue, i promise you. WARNING! CONTAINS COLOUR OF LILY'S PANTIES! SIRIUS IS A PSYCIC! hahaha...right, at any rate... oh and the sunburn thing actually happened to me on my first day of highschool. Resulting in people calling me rudolph and the like for the rest of the year. Fifteen year old boys can be so clever. Please review!  
P.S. see general disclaimer at the beggining of the prologue. If perchance you're concerned about that sort of thing.**

* * *

She thought later that perhaps another reason that she remembered her last day of summer so clearly was because of the sharp contrast it made with the following day. She awoke the next morning not to the gentle play of sunlight across her face, but to her sister's shrill voice screaming at her to get up – her family had arrived to see her off on the school train – and a sore and itchy nose. Puzzling over this as she rolled groggily out of bed and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom, she rubbed the offending bit of her anatomy thoughtfully, then remembered that she had spent the entirety of the previous day lying out in the blazing sun. Sure enough, peering nervously into the mirror, she discovered that her nose and cheeks were burnt a brighter red that her hair.

Lily let out a moan of disgust and splashed her face with cold water, scrubbing at her sore nose to no avail. If anything it looked worse than before. Swearing mildly under her breath, she stripped off the t-shirt she had worn to bed and climbed into the shower stall, thinking vaguely that she ought to be able to hide it with makeup. She was _not_ going to start her seventh year at Hogwarts looking like a tomato gone wrong.

An hour and a half, two moisturising face treatments and a stick of concealer later, Lily was ready to scream with frustration. No matter what she tried her nose still looked as florescent as ever. Washing her face for the umpteenth time, she glared at her dripping reflection. _I'll just have to bring out my eyes or_ _something instead,_ she thought desperately, half remembering something she had once read in a magazine – and promptly jabbed herself in the eye with the mascara brush.

By the time she arrived downstairs to greet her family, she was late, grumpy and had acquired the beginnings of a headache. It was no help when Petunia, upon spotting her new, rosy complexion, snorted into her bowl of cereal (weatabix, naturally, Lily thought in disgust). Looking up from his eggs to wish her good morning, her father winced, and even her mother looked pained at the sight of her younger daughter's face. She kissed Lily's cheek very gingerly, muttering, "you might try some aloe lotion on that." All in all, it wasn't a very positive start to her last year of school.

The drive to King's Cross Station was almost unbearable, with her headache growing steadily worse as Petunia prattled on about the wedding; where was the best place to register for you china patterns and what colour the groomsmen's' ties ought to be. Lily pressed her burning cheek against the sticky glass of the car window and thought longingly of the cool, quiet compartments on the Hogwart's Express, before remembering that before she could enjoy a nice nap she was required to instruct the prefects in their duties – as well as certain other things which had been outlined in the letter telling her she had been made Head Girl.

She turned her attention to the badge sitting in her lap, picking it up and playing idly with it. If truth were told, that letter had not come as any great surprise to her. While she was not necessarily at the top of the class in every subject, she was aware that her exam results were some of the very best in her year. Morever, she knew that Dumbledore wasn't necessarily looking for the person with the fewest detentions to her name (_because if he were,_ she thought with mild amusement, _I certainly wouldn't have gotten the badge_), but someone with strong leadership qualities, who wouldn't abuse the position, who was easily approachable by any students requiring help. Without any conceit she knew that this description fitted her perfectly, and was pleased that the Headmaster recognised it too.

Yes, she would have been surprised and a little offended if Dumbledore had not chosen her, and yet... Now that she was here, and everything was suddenly coming to a head, she felt slightly uneasy about the amount of responsibility that was being thrust upon her. _I'm not ready for this, _a part of her exclaimed, _ I'm only seventeen! Which means you're about to start your seventh year,_ the more rational part of her brain retorted, _just like every other Head Girl for who knows how many years. Calm down, take a deep breath, don't have a hernia. _This, however, brought to mind the other thing that had been worrying her, and that was that at the end of the year she would be leaving Hogwarts forever.

_I'm not ready for any of this! I'm only seventeen!_

_You can cross that bridge when you come to it. Breath, Lily, breath._

There seemed to be two completely different people clashing inside her head. One moment she felt confident and in control, the next... the next she was just a silly girl who had burnt her face to the colour of a strawberry right before the first day of school.

"Lily – we're here."

Mrs Evan's voice shook her out of her reverie, and she looked up to find herself sitting in the parking lot at King's Cross Station.

Partings with her family were brief – she had always been terrible at goodbyes. She quickly hugged and kissed her mother and sister, ("Just a peck on the cheek will do fine, Lily," sniffed Petunia, "you're going to muss my hair...") then embraced her father last.

Mr Evans held his daughter's tiny frame close to him for a moment before releasing her and bending to kiss her forehead. "You'll be fine, darling," he said softly, correctly interpreting the expression on her face. "That Headmaster of yours is no fool – he wouldn't have chosen you if he didn't think you were the best for the job." Lily nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words, but still unsure. Smiling slightly, her father took the silver badge from her hands and pinned it carefully to her t-shirt.

She took a step back, staring at her family for a minute, unsure of what to say, until her mother laughed and pushed her towards the barrier. "Go quick, then, dear, before we all start bawling our eyes out. We'll see you at Christmas for the wedding... be good, now... write..."

Lily turned away towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Blowing Petunia a last kiss (her sister half-smiled and shook her head in reluctant amusement), she glanced around, then took the barrier at a run.

She emerged blinking in the bright sunlight onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters, which was as usual bustling with young witches and wizards and their families. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she straightened her hair and pulled herself up to her full height, such as it was. _Everything is going to be just fine, _she told herself silently. She began to push her trolley in the direction of the enormous scarlet steam engine that was the Hogwarts Express, peering into the crowd, looking for her friends, or possibly the new Head Boy. Or someone who knew who he was, for that matter. Perhaps one of the Prefects –

Lily was very nearly bowled over by someone smashing into her form behind and immediately seizing her in a very enthusiastic hug with a cry of "Lily!" She knew without turning who it was and said, laughingly, "Get off Marlene, I can't breathe." Marlene McKinnon released her and she turned to face her fellow Gryffindor seventh year and friend, only to be smothered in another hug, this time from Tara MacMillan.

"Yes...yes, I missed you too," she said, patting the blond girl carefully on the back, "but I _really _can't breath like this..."

Tara relinquished her hold on Lily. "Lily!" she cried melodramatically. "We haven't heard from you in _ages!_ We thought you'd been eaten by something!"

"And really," added Marlene, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes suspiciously, "what sort of person doesn't write to her best mates in the world for over three weeks if she _hasn't _been eaten by something?"

"Oh, well..."

"Honestly, Lily!" Tara said in a mock-angry tone of voice. "I had to brave the Muggle phone lines to make sure you were still alive. Good thing I got your father – you sister would have probably hung up on me – and what do I find, but that you've been made Head Girl and disappeared off to some reclusive hippie retreat and won't be back until school starts!"

Lily laughed and continued pushing her trolley towards the train. Marlene and Tara followed.

"It wasn't a hippie retreat," she said, "I was just at my aunt's, by the beach -"

"The beach?" interjected Marlene. "Meet any lads there?"

"Who met some lads where?"

This last came from directly above Lily's head, causing her to jump, startled. She turned quickly to see the remaining occupants of her dorm room in Gryffindor Tower; the twins, Rosemary and Jasmine Brown, and Danielle Meadowes.

"Lily met some lads at the beach," Marlene said in reply to Jas' query.

"Lily's here?" said Rosie, in tones of great surprise.

"Lily, darling, we thought you'd gotten some sort of really dreadful disfiguring disease!" cried Jas. (The twins refused to answer to their full names because, as Rosie had once said, "It's not _our _fault our mother named us after the herbs on her windowsill.")

Lily threw up her hands in exasperation. "Oh, honestly, what are you lot like? I was only gone two

weeks -"

"Meeting lads without us," said Jas, attempting to look pouty.

"I didn't meet anyone, it was a private beach! Besides, it was raining most of the time."

"Hmmm," said Rosie, eyeing Lily's complexion. "Looks like you got enough sun, all the same."

Lily glared at her friend and clapped a hand to her nose.

Tara giggled. "Merlin, Lily, what did you do? It's brighter than your bloody hair!"

"I just stayed out a bit long yesterday, all right?"

The girls proceeded over to the train, still giggling, where Jas and Marlene immediately set about charming a couple of burly Hufflepuffs into hauling their trunks into the compartment.

"So, Lily, if it rained the whole time and you weren't off snogging someone, why on earth didn't you write?" said Danielle. "And after you'd just been made Head Girl, no less."

Lily rolled her eyes good-humoredly. "Oh, are we back to this? It seems you all found out the news just fine without me."

"That's because _Tara_ isn't opposed to communication," said Rosie, "and she sent us all owls as soon as she found out, like a _good_ mate."

"Yes, because I'm a _good _mate," parroted Tara.

Lily smiled. "All right, all right, I'm sorry I didn't write, but I thought Marlene and Danielle were still abroad, and Tara was off shagging Jack twenty-four seven - "

Tara looked affronted. "I was _not _shagging - "

"Right, save it for the jury," grinned Rosie. Tara's boyfriend Jack had left Hogwarts two years ago and they were always inseparable during the summer.

Lily continued, "- and I didn't even know _where _Rosie and Jas had gotten to – "

"Amsterdam!" said Jas, flinging out an arm theatrically and nearly catching a frightened-looking first-year in the eye. "Learning to speaken ze Doitch viz ze Doitchlandish!"

Tara coughed. "Well then you must have learned that Doitchland actually means Germany and not Holland..."

Jas frowned. "Does it really? Bit confusing, that. But I had to learn some, in order to talk to all the dishy Dutch blokes. Oh – there was this one in the restaurant - "

"Jas, dear," Rosie cut in, "we've been over this, he was only goggling at you because he was trying to take your order, that's what the waiter's supposed to do - "

"Oh, you're just jealous because he wasn't looking at you..."

Both twins simultaneously flipped their matching golden hair in annoyance with the other. Born within ten minutes of each other, their every moved seemed to be synchronised, and it was often impossible to tell them apart.

Their trunks loaded, the girls climbed into the train themselves and moved along the corridor, looking for an empty compartment. They found one towards the back and all piled inside; Lily sank into the window seat and leaned back against the headrest, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her headache seemed to have returned, worse than ever. Her friends appeared not to notice.

"So, Tara," Marlene began, fixing the girl with an inquisitive look, one eyebrow raised, "if you _weren't _shagging Jack all summer, what _were _you doing with him?"

At this, all attention was immediately focused on Tara, who had just fished a copy of _Witch Weekly_ out of her bag. She peered at Marlene over the top of her magazine and attempted a commiserating look. "I'll have you know, Miss McKinnon, that there are plenty of worthwhile things to one's boyfriend that do not involve sex in any way."

"Ha!" snorted Jas. "Such as?"

"W-well...the other day, for example, Jack and I had a...a very enlightening philosophical discussion -"

"Oh, is that what we're calling it now? 'Philosophical discussion'?"

"Come off it, Tara," said Rosie, grinning. "You've never been opposed to kiss and tell before, why're you holding out on us now? Usually we can't get you to shut up about Jack..."

"Oh, let's not go there," muttered Danielle darkly. "I know much more about Jack Davies by now than anyone in their right mind would care too..."

"Come on, Tara, spill," said Jas eagerly, not to be deterred. "When did you start having 'philosophical discussions'?"

Tara's round, pretty face had darkened to a shade that matched Lily's hair, and she seemed on the point of answering when the compartment door slid noisily open and a tall, dark-haired boy darted inside, slamming the door behind him. He peered cautiously down the hall through the glass, swore, and spun to face the girls, whose presence had apparently escaped him.

An expression of very slight surprise crossed his handsome face, but it was replace almost immediately with a charming, easy smile; Lily knew after seven years that very little ruffled the cool composure of Sirius Black. Dark grey eyes dancing, he bowed deeply. "Ladies," he said, pushing longish black hair away from his face.

They all returned the greeting, and Jas flipped her cornsilk hair over her shoulder, an alluring smile in place on her perfect lips. Despite the headache, Lily shook her head in amusement. The girl was terrible; put her in the same room with any male under the age of fifty and there was no stopping her.

"Hiding from someone, Sirius?" she practically purred.

Sirius' grin widened. "It's... possible. Though this particular compartment has more to recommend itself than just a good hiding place."

"Oh, really?" Jas began, but Marlene interrupted her.

"I would hazard a guess that the person he's hiding from is female," the other girl remarked absently, not looking up from the article she was reading over Tara's shoulder.

Sirius looked slightly sheepish. Seeing this, Tara exclaimed, "Oh, you _haven't_ gone and broken it off with Connie, have you? She's such a nice girl - "

"Not to mention one of the best duellers in the school," added Marlene dryly. She looked up at Sirius, her eyes lingering on a burn in the left sleeve of his shirt. "I'd also venture to say that Mr Black wasn't particularly tactful in his handling of the situation."

"Ah... well, if you put it that way..." Sirius looked marginally awkward for about a millisecond before pulling himself together. "She did seem a bit put out about something, but nothing to fret over, I'm sure..." His dazzling smile was back in place. His gaze swept over the compartment and came to rest on Lily.

His grin, if possible, widened even further, and he came over to sit between her and Danielle, leaving Jas looking slightly put out. Lily sighed tiredly. Sirius was all right, as boys went, but she wasn't in the mood for him just now. She blamed the headache for the harshness in her voice. "What do you want, Sirius?"

"Anything of a personal nature that you're willing to tell me," he said promptly, "that I might aid a certain esteemed friend of mine in relentlessly stalking you. A play by play account of your summer would be a good start."

Lily's friends all giggled. Sirius Black's best friend, James Potter, had been infatuated with Lily since fourth year. She had long ago lost count of the number of times he had asked her out and she had turned him down (in an increasingly derogatory manner). Whatever else might be said of the boy, he certainly didn't give up easily. (Though what some might call persistence, Lily was more likely to refer to as pig-headedness and conceit.)

She faced Sirius with another sigh. "Really?" she said sarcastically. "Knowing your esteemed friend, I would have thought it would be more along the lines of the colour of my underwear."

Sirius continued to grin maddeningly. "Oh, rest assured he already knows. You see," he added, dropping his voice conspirationaly, "James and I both share the unique ability to divine the colour of girls' kinckers, an ancient and much maligned form of divination. It's true!" he insisted, as Marlene snorted. "Go on, try me! Jas - "

Lily closed her eyes and flopped backward in her seat again with a moan, wondering for the billionth time what was wrong with most males under the age of twenty five. And why most females seemed to find this brand of idiocy so attractive. As Jas, Rosie and Danielle all leaned in towards Sirius, Marlene snorted again and Tara giggled, Lily came to the conclusion that they wouldn't miss her overmuch if she left now for the prefect's compartment. The train was about to leave anyway, and she still hadn't found out who the new Head Boy was.

She was bending down to gather up her bag as Sirius turned back to her.

"Your turn, Lily!" he said gleefully as she looked up. He grabbed her chin and pulled her up until her face was more or less level with his, then looked deep into her large, green eyes, narrowing his own comically. Faking a look of great concentration, he touched two fingers to each of her temples, then brought them back to his.

"Hmmhmm, hmmhmm...aha! Black bikini...rather..lacy!"

Lily considered this for a moment. He was actually mostly right. In spite of herself, she could feel her cheeks growing warm.

"Oooo," giggled Jas. "Lily's blushing!"

"No, that's just the sunburn," said Marlene helpfully.

Sirius peered more closely at her face and winced. "That's a _sunburn_? Wow, Lil', I mean – not that the, er, rasberry look can't be attractive, but - "

Lily sighed, grabbed her bag, and got to her feet.

"I'm off to the prefect's compartment for a bit, all right girls?" she said, pointedly ignoring Sirius, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Ah, yes, forgot you were Head Girl now, Evans..." (Lily wondered for a moment how he had found out in the first place, then remembered who his best friend was) "...well, you're certainly frightening enough when you're angry - " - Lily stalked out of the compartment – "– but you might want to invest in a pair of stilts, it's easier to look authorative when people don't have to bend down to see you - " he called after her.

Once outside, she mentally shook herself. Normally she was very easy going – Sirius usually made her laugh. The growing ache in her skull was putting her in a bad mood. She took another calming breath, then wandered slowly towards the front of the train. Students of all ages and houses were rushing up and down the length of the corridor, searching for an empty compartment, saying last minute goodbyes, stowing their luggage, greeting their friends, hexing the kid who had sent them a curse by owl over the summer...

After handing out the first detention of the year to a Ravenclaw fourth-year and providing the unfortunate Slytherin third-year with a pail to vomit the slugs into, she proceeded directly to the prefect's compartment, hoping to have a chance for a quick nap before everyone else arrived. She spotted Connie Edgecomb (a pretty, rather foolish girl), Sirius's latest ex, lurking just outside it, and considered briefly telling her where she might find him. After a moment's hesitation, she merely smiled cheerfully as she slipped past the girl.

The prefect compartment was completely empty. She sank into a seat with a sigh, pressing her cheek against the cool glass of the window. Her head was pounding and her bunt face was itchy. _What a wonderful way to start off the year, _she thought bleakly. _Serves me right for not wearing a hat, I suppose. I'd best go and see Madam Pomfrey straight away when the train arrives... She'll have something for the headache...I can't spend the whole first day of classes vomiting from heat stroke..._

It was lovely and quiet in this compartment. She had closed her eyes and was just beginning to drift off when the door slid noisily open. She didn't open her eyes. Maybe if they thought she was asleep they would just leave her alone...

Or not. She heard slow footsteps approaching, and then silence. Maybe if she just stayed still they'd go away and let her sleep... the glass felt wonderful beneath her burning cheek and the silence was soothing... she opened her eyes a crack to see if whomever had just entered the compartment was worth her attention –

- and found herself staring into a pair of hazel eyes just inches from her face. She jumped backwards as best she could while remaining in her seat and swore, loudly and colourfully.

James Potter stepped back, grinning widely at her creative use of four letter words.

"Language, Evans. As Head Girl you've got to set an example for the rest of us..." He raised a hand and ran it casually through his dark hair, just as he always did. He had grown taller and more broad-shouldered over the summer, making the difference in their heights even more significant, but his jet black hair remained as wildly untidy as ever.

"What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing, Potter?" she demanded angrily, her heart still racing from the fright he had given her. Before he could get out one of his trademark glib remarks she added, "You shouldn't even be in here! This compartment is reserved for the prefects and the Head Boy and Girl."

He nodded, looking quite pleased with himself.

"I said, you're not supposed to be in here."

He continued to smile aggravatingly, as though he had just thought of something highly amusing and was dying to tell her, but was waiting for the opportune moment.

"So leave."

He tilted his head to one side, considering. "You said it's reserved for prefects and Heads."

"Yes."

"Yes." He looked more infuriatingly pleased than ever. An idea occurred to her.

She stared up at him in horror. No – it couldn't be. Of course, everyone knew Dumbledore was a little mad, but even _he _couldn't _possibly_ have...

"You – you don't mean – you _can't _be saying – he _wouldn't_ - " she stuttered hopelessly, already guessing the truth

He raised an eyebrow at her ironically. "You know, that's exactly what my mother said," he said brightly, "but look, I have proof - "

And he produced a small silver badge from his shirt pocket. It was nearly identical to hers, and on it were unmistakably the graven words 'Head Boy'.

She leaned back against the seat again, fighting the sudden urge to bang her head repeatedly against the window; it already felt like somone was trying to crack her skull open with a pickaxe.

"Oh, no..." she moaned.

"Oh, yes," he said happily, flinging himself into the seat across from her, completely unperturbed by her dismay.

"No," she repeated, pinching the bridge of her nose against the pain behind her eyes. "No, I don't need this, not now... What was Dumbledore _thinking_?"

He was still grinning, blast him. She expected some sort of remark on how it was obviously due to his incredible brilliance, good looks and all around charm, but instead James merely spread his hands in of bewilderment and shrugged his shoulders.

"Search me, the man's a loony," he replied. Apparently he couldn't quite restrain himself though, as he added, "_Although, _ he is very highly respected throughout the wizarding community, so that must count for something. Perhaps he believes I have hidden depths?'

Lily snorted. "Of course you have hidden depths. And there's nothing in them that I should like to see brought to the surface."

He clapped a hand to his chest theatrically. "Ouch, Evans, you wound me deeply." But he continued as though she hadn't. "So... had a good summer then? Haven't found your mates yet? Is that why you're in here so early?"

James' questions were innocent enough, the sensible part of Lily's mind noted, but her usual reflex of snapping at anything he said, combined with headache drumming in her ears caused her to respond tersely.

"My summer was passable, and I'm early because your best mate is chatting with all of mine," she said, "and when I say chatting, I mean flirting shamelessly and guessing the colour of their knickers."

James winced. "Ah...yes...the, er, ancient and much maligned branch of Divination," he said, almost apologetically. "Er, sorry about that, we were both quite drunk when we came up with it..." He considered this for a moment. "Although come to think of it, Sirius's actually quite good at it..."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes," she said dryly, "I got to witness his prowess first hand. It's a talent we may all aspire too. However, I left that compartment for a reason, so if you'd be so kind as to shut up now..."

Even to her the words sounded harsh, and she saw his face harden for a moment before he shrugged and fell silent. She pretended not to notice and turned to stare determinedly out of the window even thought there was nothing to see yet.

This lasted for approximately thirty seconds before James opened his mouth again; it seemed to Lily that the boy was entirely too fond of the sound of his own voice.

"Lily, could – "

"No."

"You don't even know what I - "

"No," she said again. "Whatever it is, Potter, the answer is no."

James sighed and got to his feet as though to leave the compartment, but she waived him impatiently back into his seat.

"The prefects will be here any minute, and we're supposed to tell them a bunch of things," she informed him. "You can leave when we've finished that."

"Aw, Evans, I'd only be gone for a minute - "

"No."

He shrugged again and sat back down, twiddling his thumbs idly. Lily turned back to the window, wondering what the Headmaster had been on when he had sent a badge to James Potter, and if it came to that, where she could get some of it. At this rate she'd need a strong sedative, at the very least, to stop her going stark raving mad. The boy was clearly unfit for the position... hexing innocent people in the tormenting the younger students just because he could... he would obviously abuse the position... and completely thoughtless... it was a wonder he hadn't burnt the school down yet... or if not him, then Sirius...

She glanced up again after a minute or so and saw that he was staring at her with apparent fascination. She looked away, then back again surreptitiously, several times. When he continued to stare, she said in exasperation, "I've never been sure which planet _you_ came from, Potter, but in our terran culture it's considered rude to stare."

He blinked, then beamed at her. "I was just admiring your new sunny complexion," he said brightly and, as she shot him a death glare, added, "No really, the whole 'poster child for skin cancer' look is quite popular this fall..."

"Shut _up, _Potter!"

James began humming under his breath. Deeming this better than the actual sound of his voice, Lily closed her eyes again. She vaguely recognised the tune, and after a minute she recalled the words.

You are my sunshine

_My only sunshine_

_You make me happy_

_When skies are grey_

_You'll never know, dear_

_How much I love you – _

Her eyes jerked open. "James, do you _mind_?" she snapped. "I have a headache!"

She was spared any retort he might have made by the sound of a whistle blowing and the compartment door sliding open; the prefects had arrived and the train was leaving.

Lily got quickly to her feet, trying to ignore the intensified pounding in her temples as she stood, and a sudden light-headedness. Shaking her head as though to clear it, she smiled around at her fellow Hogwarts students as they filed in. Most nodded their greetings to her in return, but she noted that a couple of the Slytherins and even a Ravenclaw she knew to be a pureblood watching her in a decidedly resentful way. She continued to smile determinedly and pretended not to see. James seemed to have noticed the same thing, because he stood up too and looked at the offending prefects in a way that could be interpreted as menacing. Lily chose to ignore this as well; there was a time and a place for fighting with the new Head Boy, and this was not it.

James' expression softened a moment later when Remus Lupin, another of his close friends entered. The tall boy smiled in greeting at the prefect, who returned the gesture, laughter in his amber eyes as he looked from James to the small redhead beside him.

Lily cleared her throat and glanced down at the papers she had quickly pulled out of her bag. Right... so she had to explain their duties and give them passwords... There was an odd, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and she felt decidedly unsteady on her feet. She shut her eyes briefly, willing the world to stop spinning.

"Right," she said, looking around. "Right, um... yes, welcome back for another year and – and congratulations to the new prefects. I – I - " Her hand went to her forehead, trying to push away the burning, beating feeling in her skull. She tried to focus on the papers in front of her, but it was all slightly blurry. "Um... I - " _Snap out of it, Lily! _ She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and someone snickered softly.

"Are you all right?" James's voice said in her ear. She tried to nod, but it made the pounding worse. There was another snicker.

James looked up and glared aggressively at the offending prefect. "Here, let me do it," he muttered to Lily, taking the papers from her hands.

"Uh- I believe what our Head Girl is trying to say is that we're all dead chuffed you lot are back and weren't attacked by Chimeras over the summers hols – yeah, even you Parkinson – and everyone's real proud, etc. etc. It's a big responsibility and if you abuse it, I'll hex you. Now - "

"James!" Lily hissed.

"– sorry, _Lily _will hex you - "

"Potter!"

"­ – right, right, no threatening allowed – er, there will be severe repercussions and McGonagall'll do her nut – and no one wants that. Now, there's a couple of things we're supposed to make you do. Firstly - "

But this time, Remus Lupin's voice cut in. "Oi! Prongs!"

James glanced over at Lily. She was swaying unsteadily beside him and her face was suddenly very pale in contrast with her sunburn.

"Lily? Are you - ?"

But there was a rushing in her ears and she felt her knees give way beneath her, felt herself falling, saw James reaching out to grab her. _Oh no, _she thought vaguely, as though in slow motion, _he'll never let me live it down if I faint right into his arms. _In her last moments of consciousness, she hit his arms aside. Then the world grew suddenly dark and she was out cold even before her head hit the ground with a resounding thud.

**Hurrah! Please review and then I'll update! Next chapter will likely be more from James' POV.**


	3. Open her eyes

**Hellooo again, long wait for an update, I know...i had to switch my chapter three around here, cuz i forgot something kinda important...but it's in there now, so tralala, and hopefully i'll put chapter four up pretty soon. If we're lucky. For anyone who was wondering, Mean Samhraidh (there should be an accent on the 'a' in Mean, but this thing won't let me put it in, and it's pronounced mee-an sam-rade), is the cealtic gaelic word for summer solstice, or the celtic summer solstice festival. See, i figure that this was really the last good time in Lily and James lives, before they were like, joining secret scocieties to fight the forces of darkness and sacrificing their lives to save the world and that sort of thing. And Mean Samhraidh is the longest day of the year, so everythings kinda downhill from there, metaphorically speaking. Soooo... do you see my impressively intellectual reasoning? Of course you do. PS, standard disclaimer in first chapter, if perchance you're interested in learning that hardly any of this belongs to me. **

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* * *

**James Potter was an opportunist. That is to say, he was very good at analysing a situation quickly and competently and delving from this information what opportunities it held for him, and how best he could take advantage of them. And then acting upon it.

This skill, generally speaking, made him appear completely in control at all times. He was even less likely to appear flustered than his best friend, and always knew what to say and when to say it to achieve the desired result. Even when he was completely ignorant on the topic at hand (which was seldom) he somehow managed to appear otherwise, simply by listening carefully, processing the data, then making small contributions to the conversation that somehow contrived to sound incredibly insightful. He had mastered this skill very early on in life, and so even at eleven he seemed terribly clever to his peers. Coupled with a good amount of talent on the Quidditch pitch (made a chaser on the house team in his second year, he had scored ten goals in his first ever match) and a highly advanced academic ability, most of the student population had come to admire him greatly. This all combined in his third year to make for a rather conceited thirteen-year old boy.

Over the next two and a half years, most of Hogwarts' young witches and wizards had quickly learned to treat James Potter and his friends with a certain caution (those who didn't learn as quickly had a tendency towards bizarre accidents and occasional paralysis). While the four boys were respected and revered by nearly everyone, students and teachers alike, it was common knowledge that it never paid to bother them when they didn't want to be bothered, or to ask them annoying, trivial questions such as, "So where _do _you four get off to every full moon?" James and Sirius Black probably held the all time highest detention record in the school's history, with the last member of their gang, Peter Pettigrew, coming in at a close second. (Remus Lupin, however, wasn't even in the top ten. No one was ever certain if this was because he never got up to as much mischief as the other three, or simply because he was much better at not getting caught.) Even so, it was speculated that they would have had twice the amount if it weren't for an innate ability to talk their way out of sticky situations. The four had been called many things, often true, in which phrases like 'bullying, conceited bastards' often figured, but 'stupid' was certainly not among these. Both James and Sirius were obviously brilliant, and they knew it. They thought themselves a cut above the rest because in many cases they did indeed appear to be. They were overconfident to a fault from their successes over the years. And everyone wanted to be just like them.

Then, around February of their sixth year, something changed. Of the students, only the four boys and a certain hook-nosed Slytherin knew what had really happened that night; many of the teachers also remained oblivious. But whatever it was, it caused a rift between the four for nearly a month, unheard of before then, so closely were those friendships tied. Until mid-March James and Remus avoided Sirius' gaze, while Peter flitted between the two groups, looking awkward. All the while, Severus Snape glared down his vulture- like nose at them. Whatever had happened (and this was the subject of many hours of debate throughout the school), it had wrought a change in all them, most notably the Potter boy, who seemed to grow up overnight.

The unknown event coincided directly with the worst yet mass killings in the name of the rising Dark Lord, so James was not the only one to go from boy to man in a very short amount of time.

By his seventeenth birthday, James Potter had all but abandoned his childhood faults of conceit and cruelty. It was generally acknowledged nowadays that you might accidentally bump into him in the corridor without getting a facefull of boils. Whatever trouble he and friends made, it was only in fun (though admittedly a certain caretaker didn't quite see it in that light), and never at the expense of others. Foolish boys had become fine young men, and the old Headmaster smiled up in his office, his blue eyes twinkling as he watched this unfold.

So, when the Head Boy badge had arrived with his letter, James was not surprised. His mother was in a state of shock, his father nearly had a heart attack and his friends had teased him about it for weeks, but deep inside he had known it would be him. James could remember the person he'd been just a few short months ago, and he didn't like that boy very much at all. But the fact that he could recognise this made him all the more aware of who he was now, and the person he was now deserved that badge.

Finally, after nearly three years of hearing it, he had become the sort of person Lily Evans had been telling him he ought to be. She was always so vivid in her descriptions of his failings, James would have thought she might notice that many of them had finally been discarded, but she seemed incapable of viewing him in this new light. It was a cruel irony; to be given a second chance by everyone but the one he was taking the chance for in the first place.

He tried to tell himself to forget her; that if she was too stubbornly blind to see him for who he was then she wasn't worth the effort, but this had long proved to be impossible. He had only to hear her voice, to watch her laugh, to catch her eye, in order to remind himself of the fascination she had held for him since he was fourteen.

Coming into his seventh year with a completely different perspective on life, James no longer had a clue what to do to try and make her see him – all his previous ploys now seemed childish. The only thing that seemed to be left was to hope for a miracle that would open her eyes.

* * *

Lily remained in the Hogwarts hospital wing with a bad case of heat-stroke and a mild concussion for the first full week of classes. This meant that, for the first full week of classes, James' friends had to endure his endless dithering over her health and equally endless plots to sneak into the hospital wing to visit her. Because Madame Pomfrey had flatly refused to let him set foot inside the wing, other than on the first evening when he and Remus had brought her in from the train. The very next day, James had intended to go and see how she was, under the pretext of needing to discuss important Head business. 

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but Miss Evans is not at all well just now," the Hogwarts matron had informed him. "I should think you'd have realised that, seeing as you were the one who brought her up last night. Besides," she added, eyeing him suspiciously, "Lily has _specifically _requested that I should under no circumstances allow the Head Boy to visit her."

And, oblivious to his splutterings of protest, she had closed the door in his face.

Being James Potter, he had not of course given up, but on Wednesday, after hearing his fifty-third hairbrainded idea in a row, his friends had had enough. Both Sirius and Peter punched him, none too gently, and Remus exclaimed exasperatedly, "Look James, judging by the way she knocked your arms away while she was _losing consciousness,_ I think we can safely assume that _she wants nothing to do with you! _ Generally, when a girl would choose a concussion over you, it's a sign that she's not interested! GET OVER IT!"

He then stormed off, leaving the other three blinking in astonishment at this uncharacteristic outburst.

Sirius gave James another smack around the head for good measure, then slapped him companionably on the back. "Don't mind him, Prongs," he advised, "he's just in a bad mood…it's nearly full moon. Although you do go on a bit," he added. "You might try talking about something else for a while. She's just a girl."

That was the problem, of course, that was the part that none of them seemed to understand – because for James, she wasn't _just_ a girl. Connie Edgecombe, Sirius' latest ex, for all that she was one of the most gorgeous females in the school, was _just _a girl. Margery Prewett, whom he had dated for the better half of sixth year (at his friend's urging), was _just _a girl. All the gigglers in the hallways, with their shiny hair, streamlined bodies, pink lips, he had never classified Lily amongst them; she seemed to exist in a class entirely her own. Never _just _a girl, she was always _Lily._

She was very pretty, of course, although perhaps not in the conventional way of, say, the Brown twins. But his attraction to her went far beyond anything purely physical. (Which was unfortunate, as he would have long been over her if it _were _physical). But she was smart, she was funny, she was kind almost to a fault. She had innumerable friends in various years and houses throughout the school, and her "enemies" (if you could call a few of the more conservative Slytherins that) were few and far between. She was one of the few people who ever caused James to lose that perpetual cool, confident aura that radiated from him. In fact he had lost quite a few things to her over the years; his temper, his dignity, his heart…

He'd found that his brain seemed to lose control over what his mouth was saying within moments of being in her presence. He'd gotten into the habit of planning possible greetings and conversations with her beforehand, then rehearsing them over and over in his head in the hopes that he might be able to say something intelligent (or at least English) when he did run into to her. This seldom worked, however, and so, predictably, his first encounter with her after she left the hospital wing was not one on which he could look back without wanting to change schools, or possibly countries.

He had just been to kitchens and was now roaming the halls with some knicked pastries wrapped in a large napkin, thinking and not really paying attention to where he was going, when he rounded a dark corner and collided with someone walking in the opposite direction. There was a sharp cry, and a female voice yelped in pain. "That was my toe!"

"Sorry," he began, "I - " but he recognised the mellow, lilting tones of her voice a second too late. Generally, he could keep his wits about him for a little longer if he avoided direct eye contact, but he suddenly found himself looking straight down into those fathomless green eyes, glittering like emeralds in the dim light, and he was lost.

While his attraction to her was indeed much more than merely physical, he could still never help but be amazed each time he saw her. The torchlight fell on those auburn locks, giving them a golden sheen, lighting up her small, heart-shaped face. She looked paler than usual (Madam Pomfrey had obviously been able to treat the sunburn) but the long walk from the hospital wing had brought a slight flush to her cheeks. He tried desperately to remember what he'd been saying, trying to grasp at something, anything, that would be an appropriate comment for the situation. His brain was veering dangerously towards the poetic, and that was never a good sign.

She glared up at him, rubbing her injured toe against the back of her other leg. "You might want to watch your jaw," she said, "It's scraping the ground."

This jolted him halfway back to sanity. "Er…uh, sorry, sorry," he muttered. "Did I turt you hoe?" he added, too quickly.

A smirk now played at the corners of her perfect mouth. He wished that for once she could be laughing with him, rather than at him.

"My hoe will be fine," she said sardonically, brushing past him, "Now if you'll excuse me…"

She turned and continued on her way, judging by her direction, to Gryffindor Tower.

He hurried after her. "Uh, yeah, I was just heading back to the common room too," he lied quickly.

Lily rolled her eyes. "James, you were going in the opposite direction."

"Well, yes," he began, "because, er…I, um, I know a short cut."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Perhaps you could share it with me?"

"Uh…well, I _would…_ but er, but I, uh, I just remembered that it's Saturday and the, uh, shortcut only works on um, weekdays."

"Ah. Of course."

She proceeded along the corridor and up a flight of stairs in stony silence, walking quickly, refusing to look at him. Even with his much longer legs, he had to hurry to keep up.

He tried once more.

"Mince pie?" he said, offering her one from amongst the various pastries wrapped in the linen napkin.

She didn't even turn. "I'm vegetarian," she said coldly. And that was it. Clearly, she had never heard of the newfangled inovation of civilised conversation. Why was it so bloody hard to talk to that girl?

Later, sitting in the common room with Peter and Remus (it was anyone's guess where Sirius had gotten to, but this was a fairly regular occurrence and no one was troubling much about it), he couldn't help but continue to stare surreptitiously at the back of her head as she chatted with Steven Bones. He must not have been being as discreet about as he thought though, because after about ten minutes Marlene McKinnon made a rude and unmistakable gesture at him over Lily's shoulder.

He slumped back in his seat with a groan, and resolved to his friends for the umpteenth time that he wasn't ever going to have anything to do with Lily Evans ever again, and furthermore, hadn't they always found Steven Bones to be a bit of a berk?

Remus chucked his copy of Advanced Transfiguration at James's head.

* * *

James awoke just after sunrise the following morning to sound of Sirius' snoring. He lobbed a pillow at his best friend and rolled over, trying to get back to sleep. It was useless; his mind was still full of _her_, her wide eyes and angry silence. He cringed at the memory of last night; a sort of sick burning sensation stirred in the pit of his stomach at the thought of it. _Turt your hoe?_ he thought in disgust. _Real smooth James. What girl wouldn't go for a dyslexic man?_

He tossed and turned for another half-hour before giving up and rolling out of bed. He snatched up his glasses from the night table and dressed quickly, then grabbed his Nimbus one thousand and one on the way out of the dormitory. Sirius was snoring again. James resisted the urge to give him a hard poke in the side of the head, and closed the door quietly behind him.

He stopped briefly at the kitchens to grab some breakfast (those house elves never seemed to sleep) then made his way out to the quidditch pitch. The morning was only a little cool; there were still a few warm days left before the autumn chill set in. Birds were singing somewhere in the trees overhead, a gentle breeze brushed the hair from his eyes and he took a deep breath of the fresh air. Gradually the knot in his stomach began to loosen.

He had expected the grounds to be deserted at this hour, and so he was surprised to see the small figure sitting cross-legged beneath a young oak just outside the pitch. He moved closer, and groaned mentally as he registered the colour of her hair. She hadn't noticed him yet; she seemed engrossed in the book she was reading. He could just walk past her. He could. He would –

At that point the sensible part of his brain lost control over the lower half of his body, namely his legs, and he was walking towards her. _I'm just a sucker for punishment,_ he thought resignedly, as he neared the little tree. She was humming something to herself. He recognized the tune. _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…_

Lily looked up as he moved towards her, disgust quite plain on her face. "What do _you _want?" she demanded.

That was an excellent question. James tried to think of a reasonable answer. Unfortunately, his mind kept straying to unhelpful things, like the fact that he hadn't combed his hair since yesterday morning. _Say something! _ he thought desperately.

"I…uh, you're up early," he said. Well, at least none of his consonants were reversed.

"So are you," she retorted.

"Uh… couldn't sleep?" he ventured, and then when she didn't respond, "want some toast?"

She hesitated, and James rallied slightly. "Or do you not eat grain either?"

What might have almost been a smile dwelled very briefly on those gorgeous lips before she re-schooled her face in annoyance. James' heart leaped.

Lily glared and got to her feet, though the move wasn't a terribly impressive one, as she was still only barely as high as his shoulder. She glanced at his broom. "Flying?" she said coldly. "Sure you can manage to get off the ground without a cheering crowd to inflate your ego?"

His stomach clenched as though she had just punched him. Apparently that half smile had been a terrible lapse in her better judgement; now she had to be extra cruel to him to compensate. He looked down, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Well, aren't you just a treat this morning?" he managed, finally. "It's not everyone who can be so bright and cheery this early in the day." The prospect of flying no longer appealed to him, and his brief feeling of well being had completely evaporated. What the hell was it about her that could do this to him, that could take him from the highest plains of elation to the depths of despair in a matter of seconds?

He noted that she did look slightly ashamed at her harsh words, but her tone was still icy as she said, "I was just leaving."

"Don't let me keep you."

He brushed past her and made his way once more towards the pitch. He heard a slight intake of breath behind him, as though she had been about to say something else but thought better of it. He didn't turn back, but mounted his Nimbus and kicked off, hard.

It was colder up in the air, and the wind now whipped the hair back from his face. He was gripping the broomstick so hard his knuckles were white, but he couldn't loosen his grip, couldn't let go, couldn't get rid of the angry, frustrated feeling that was churning deep in his insides. He wanted to scream, but he could still see her, the bright beacon of her hair moving across the grounds below. _At least look back, _he found himself wishing, to what end he didn't know. _Come on, look back – _

She stopped. Her face turned back towards him, for a half a second, if that, and then she was running very quickly back up lawn, back into the castle. But it was enough; James turned the broom and went into a dive, then rose quickly again, now resisting the urge to whoop exultantly. His heart was soaring even higher than his Nimbus as he zoomed through the crisp morning air.

**So! Voila! If you like it, please review! I'm much more motivated to update if i get reviews, so really, if you like my wrighting, it's in your best interests to review. Thank you, come again.**


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